It is said that when Roberts and Charles returned from their adventurous voyage they were immediately arrested and thrown into prison by order of the King, who considered it his duty to put a stop to his subjects risking their lives in such dangerous enterprises. Public opinion was too strong for him, however, and the two heroes were quickly released, and Charles was rewarded by a pension of £200 a year for life. This newly discovered art of sailing the heavens had indeed fired popular imagination to an extraordinary degree. Probably no invention has ever aroused greater enthusiasm. Not only all France but all the civilised world went wild with excitement for the time. Most extravagant statements were made and written. A new kingdom, it was declared, had been given to mankind to conquer; voyages might be made to the moon and stars, and now it would even be possible to take Heaven itself by storm!
Ascent after ascent took place with the “Montgolfier” and the “Charlier,” both in France and in other countries; nor was it long before the balloon made its appearance in England. In August of the next summer (1784) a Mr Tytler of Edinburgh made some short voyages in a hot-air balloon of his own manufacture, and in the following month a much more adventurous attempt was successfully carried out in London by a young Italian of the name of Vincent Lunardi.
Lunardi was at this time secretary to the Neapolitan Ambassador. He was keenly interested in the subject of ballooning, and presently became fired with a desire to repeat in England those aerial experiments which were creating such a sensation on the Continent. He was only a poor man, and great difficulties stood in the way of accomplishing his object. He had to excite public interest in his venture, to collect subscriptions to defray the cost of his balloon, which was to be a “Charlier,” and to find a suitable site in London for the inflation and ascent. He met with disappointments and disasters enough to discourage a less enthusiastic man, but at length, after many troubles, on the 15th of September his balloon was ready and in process of filling in the grounds of the Honourable Artillery Company, in the city, where 150,000 people had assembled to witness the new wonder.
Vincent Lunardi.
Still Lunardi’s trials were not at an end. The balloon was advertised to ascend at a certain hour; but the supply of gas was insufficient, so that when the time came it was only partially filled, and a long delay ensued. The vast crowd—more than half inclined to believe the whole thing an imposture—began to grow very impatient and unruly, and it was only the presence of the Prince of Wales, afterwards George the Fourth, which kept them in restraint for another hour while the filling continued.
Even then the balloon was not full; but Lunardi felt he could wait no longer. He left behind him the companion who was to have accompanied him, substituted a smaller and lighter car, jumped inside and severed the ropes. Instantly the balloon rose high over the delighted city, as the crowd, led by the Prince himself, rent the air with their cheers. Wild was the excitement in every quarter. At Westminster King George the Third was in conference with Mr. Pitt and his other chief Ministers of State, but when it was known that Lunardi was in the sky the King exclaimed, “Gentlemen, we may resume our deliberations at pleasure, but we may never see poor Lunardi again!” and with one accord they adjourned to watch his progress through telescopes. Tradesmen rushed out of their shops, business men from their offices, even judge and jury from their courts.
Lunardi’s Balloon.